


Inquisition, Inc.

by Penthesilea1623



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Elspeth's just as cranky in this universe, F/M, Modern AU, PTSD, and to Bull's way of thinking just as cute, early attraction, start of romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 05:20:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7788235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penthesilea1623/pseuds/Penthesilea1623
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elspeth Trevelyan is the sole survivor of a terrorist attack that took out Thedas' top scientists and researchers. She stumbled out of the wreckage clutching a flash drive containing thousands of documents.  Thanks to the explosion and the technical nature of the information she's the only one who can decipher and use the information. Having few other options she joins those investigating the attack, members of the newly formed "Inquisition, Inc."</p><p><em>It sounds like something out of Scooby-Doo</em>, she informs them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inquisition, Inc.

**Author's Note:**

> Something I was playing with on my tumblr, which I may continue as a series of one shots, just to give Bull & Elspeth a chance to play in the modern world.

It was just before seven in the morning when Elspeth Trevelyan rounded the corner onto Haven Street. She’d given up trying to sleep at around five and having nothing else better to do had decided to go into work.

She’d showered, and dressed in what she’d come to think of as a ‘fuck you’ outfit – not a ‘fuck me’ outfit mind you, not one that enticed or teased or tried to seduce, and certainly not anything soft and silky and revealing. No, her outfit was the opposite of soft: all black, over the knee suede boots and a simple straight skirt, not short enough to be slutty, but short enough to make people have to consider for a moment if it was. She’d topped it with a soft cotton jersey tee and an oversized black jacket that prevented anyone from seeing much more of her. Black skirt, white shirt, jacket, boots: not all that different from what she’d worn when she worked at the university. It might not even be considered a sexy outfit at all, but for that three inch strip of pale white skin showing where the boots ended and the skirt began. 

That and the fact the boots sported an almost four inch heel and the skirt was made of soft black leather. 

She’d never understood what people had meant about clothes being empowering before, but striding down the street in clothes like this? She got it.

It might actually be more of a ‘fuck off’ outfit now that she thought about it. 

As usual, her fine hair had refused to cooperate with any sort of styling so she’d finally given up and left it loose. It didn’t look too bad right now, but she knew that by midday any body that it had would be gone and it would just be lying there, limp, too pale a color for her to think of it as blonde, and too yellow to be an interesting platinum. She’d always hated it. Maybe, she thought with a smile, maybe now that she was no longer bound by the university’s dress code she’d change it, just as she’d changed the clothes she wore. Maybe she’d dye it something appalling and unnatural; green or purple or turquoise or something of the sort. Something that would horrify all these important people Josephine kept dragging in front of her, those people who could help ‘the cause’ and who for some reason needed to meet the only survivor of the terrorist attack that took out a full city block in order to do so. Like she was a freak in a carnival sideshow. 

_Step right this way, ladies and gentlemen. For just a small donation you too can meet the girl who survived the explosion with nary a scratch._

Not quite true of course, she admitted as she neared the renovated warehouse that housed Inquisition, Inc.’s offices. She’d been unconscious for three days and still had major gaps in her memory. She’d been a suspect at first and she still wasn’t quite sure why Cassandra and Leliana had changed their minds and now thought she was so important to the endeavor. Yes she’d been at the conference when the explosion had happened, but she’d only been included in the conference because they’d thought the Trevelyan name would add weight to the to their argument. She was still working on her dissertation and had only recently been promoted from unpaid student intern to junior researcher. She certainly hadn’t been privy to anything that could have prompted the attack and honestly she didn’t remember most of it. She didn’t entirely blame them for suspecting her. Hundreds had died, and somehow she’d walked out of the front door on her own two feet. 

Granted as soon as she’d done so she’d fallen flat on her face, but she’d been clutching a flash drive in her fist; a flash drive that contained tens of thousands of documents, most of them so technical in nature that she was one of the few left in the city who could make any sense of them, but there were other documents as well. They were only starting to go through it all, trying to find what the motive for the attack had been and if there might be others planned. There didn’t seem to be any connection between the bits and pieces they had examined so far, but did that mean it was actually unrelated, or had they simply not found the connection yet? 

Or, did it mean whoever had put the information on the drive had been interrupted and they might never find the information that could link it all together? 

For the hundredth time she wondered if she had been the one downloading it, or if she’d taken it, or had someone else given it to her?

_Run. Warn the others._

The memory appeared and vanished in an instant but it set her heart racing unpleasantly. She stopped walking for a moment and took a shaky breath and waited for it to go back to its normal rhythm. When it finally did she scowled, her eyes narrowing behind her dark sunglasses as she resumed walking.

She hated these flashes that appeared at infuriatingly arbitrary moments. They were worse than useless and left her feeling agitated and strangely vulnerable and entirely undecided about whether she wanted to know more or less.

She raised her coffee cup, took a sip and grimaced at the taste. 

She’d stopped only once on the way here, to pick up a large black coffee at some hole in the wall convenience store. It was burnt and bitter and she took a certain perverse pleasure in the fact it was so awful. One of the first things Josephine had given her when they’d set up shop in the building on Haven Street was a fully loaded Starbucks card, while apologizing and explaining it was only temporary, that the very best espresso machine in Antiva was on order and when it arrived they wouldn’t even need to leave the building to have truly excellent coffee.

Elspeth hadn’t used the card, in spite of the fact there were at least three Starbucks that she knew of between her apartment and headquarters. It was purely passive aggressive spite on her part. Ever since she’d woken in the hospital she’d been feeling her control slipping away. Inquisition, Inc. had taken over, had decided where she lived, where she worked, who she talked to. What coffee she drank was her choice, and if she wanted to drink burnt coffee that on occasion actually contained coffee grounds, she would. She took a defiant second, bigger sip of it and couldn’t help a wry smile. It really was horrible.

Had she really become that much of a control freak that she would willingly subject herself to coffee like this? 

Apparently so.

She reached the doors and stared at the shiny brass placard wondering when it had been put into place. 

**Inquisition, Inc.**

She hated the name. She had since the first time she’d heard it, shortly after her release from the hospital when she’d been told about their mission. 

_So we’re a detective agency then,_ she’d asked with a smirk. _Will we all be wearing matching fedoras and trench coats?_

Cassandra had made a small disgusted sound and Cullen had frowned disapprovingly. There’d been no reaction from Leliana, just that same unreadable close-mouthed smile. It was Josephine who had answered her.

 _We are investigating an attack that killed over one hundred people, Miss Trevelyan._ She’d said in a reprimanding tone. _An attack which, if unexamined, could be repeated and spread terror and chaos throughout the known world. By setting ourselves up as a separate entity, one that is neutral, unaffiliated with any specific government or corporation we gain an autonomy we might not otherwise have._

 _Yeah, well it sounds like something out of Scooby Doo._ Elspeth had retorted and walked away feeling as if she’d been lectured by a disappointed schoolteacher.

But here she was working for them. She hadn’t had much choice of course. Nothing stopped career advancement quite as effectively as an explosion that killed all your coworkers. 

Time for another day of meetings and strategizing, of trying to hire people who might be able help them to get to the bottom of this mess, and, hopefully, a few hours to poor through what data they’d been able to salvage, to try and make some sense of it. 

She went to open the door, giving it a hard push with her shoulder as it always stuck, and discovered too late that it was still locked. She ended up slamming into it. Hot coffee sloshed out of the plastic lid that covered her cup and onto her hand. She let out a string of curses that actually turned the heads of people passing by, and brought her hand up to her mouth to soothe the burn, glaring at the offending door.

Did she even have her keys? She tried to remember if she’d actually used them to lock the door to the apartment when she’d left. It couldn’t be opened from the outside even if she failed to lock the dead bolt, so she didn’t always. 

Slipping one strap of her oversized tote off her shoulder, she poked through the bag. The dark sunglasses she wore and the bag’s black interior made it impossible to see anything clearly, and impatiently she shoved the glasses up to the top of her head. They immediately slipped off. She grabbed at them, only narrowly avoiding dropping her coffee, and the sunglasses fell to the stoop. One lens popped out of the frame and rolled down the three steps to land on the sidewalk.

With another litany of profanity, she plopped the bag down on the stoop and picked up the sunglasses and the lens. After a few, seconds of attempting to pop it back into place and failing completely she tossed both into the bag and sat down beside it rifling through it impatiently. The keys weren’t there, which meant not only was she locked out of the office, she was locked out of the apartment as well.

_Fuck._

 

Half a block down the street, sitting in a black SUV, Bull had a half smile on his face as he watched her. “She forgot her keys again.” He commented to Krem.

“Looks like it.” Krem agreed. “Third time this week.”

Bull and his Chargers had been hired a month before to handle Security for Inquisition, Inc.: cybersecurity, building security and, though Elspeth Trevelyan hadn’t yet realized it, her personal security. She’d completely failed to notice the people stationed outside her building at night, or the cars that followed her at a distance on her way to and from work. 

It was usually the kind of job Bull left to his men but lately he’d been going along in the mornings. He liked seeing her first thing in the day, coming out of her building, scowling up at the sky whether it was raining or sunny.

She usually wore black, occasionally with a touch of white thrown into the mix, but for the most part it was black: simple, unadorned black against that pale skin and silver gilt hair. It was stark and clean and sexy as hell and she wore that sexiness like an armor, made it something hard and aggressive as if daring people to react to it. It matched that hard as nail personality, all relentless biting sarcasm and a razor sharp tongue that he’d seen bring more than one person close to tears. It was a magnificent sight to see, Elspeth Trevelyan, only inches over five feet tall and barely one hundred pounds, backing an opponent figuratively (and once quite literally) into a corner until they almost begged for mercy.

Josephine lamented her lack of diplomacy, and Cullen didn’t begin to know how to deal with her. Bull suspected that Cassandra and Leliana at some level approved of her almost ruthless bluntness, and for one simple reason: it got results.

None of them seemed to realize that there was a vulnerability behind that hardness that that she rarely showed and certainly never when she thought anyone could see her.

You only had to look at her eyes to realize it, which he suspected was the reason she took such pains to hide them away, always wearing dark sunglasses outside and when she removed them inside, her eyes were narrowed, warily suspicious and filled with a cold scorn, all of which were emphasized by the thick black liner, smoky, dark shadow and several coats of mascara that she always wore. She turned that gaze on you it and it seemed to bore into you. You found yourself worrying about what you’d done wrong, what she would do when she discovered it and wondering if you should apologize. He’d felt exactly that the first time he’d met her: unprepared, uncertain, and as if he’d disappointed somehow, and that was before she’d begun the job interview which was conducted with a brutally ruthless efficiency that left him feeling a bit like a cadaver after an autopsy when it was over.

It was a hell of a trick. Bull thought with admiration. After experiencing that he suspected most people were too intimidated to look any closer.

He had. He’d noticed that beneath that heavy makeup her eyes were large and round and a soft pale blue. They’d seemed so at odds with the rest of her that he’d begun to look for other signs of softness and he’d discovered that sometimes, when she was caught up in her work or when she thought no one else was there, she would let that tough exterior slip. 

He’d realized that her mouth, once the dark lipstick she only ever bothered to apply in the morning had worn off, was full and soft and pink. He’d discovered that when she was caught up in work she had the habit of running her tongue over her lips before catching the lower one between her teeth and absently worrying it between her teeth, or of winding a strand of that pale hair around her finger as she scrolled through documents on her computer.

He discovered that though she didn’t socialize with any of the others and refused all invitations to join them for dinner or drinks, or cards, she knew the name of every one of the nighttime custodial staff, and knew the names of their wives and husbands and children.

From just one night keeping watch outside her apartment he knew that she slept far too little, and slept poorly when she did. Nightmares, probably and he suspected flashbacks as well. 

PTSD, he’d thought within days of meeting her, seemingly a mild case but it was sometimes hard to tell for sure. He’d wondered why none of the others seemed to realize it – you’d have thought Cullen, with his own experiences would have caught it at least. She hid it well, but, probably because he’d been through it himself, he could see the signs, like when she’d suddenly halted a few minutes ago and gone completely still. 

Bull looked for the signs now. He watched for it. He watched her. 

Truth was he had found himself watching her a lot, and if he was perfectly honest, more than was really necessary for him to do his job.

Keeping an eye on her as she walked the six blocks between her apartment and headquarters was something any of the Chargers could have handled, for example, but here he sat with his second in command, watching Elspeth Trevelyan. Krem certainly had better things he could be doing.

Iron Bull wasn’t so sure anymore that he did. There was something about her that called to him. He should probably be more worried about that than he was.

As he and Krem watched she reached into that ridiculously large bag and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and it was his turn to scowl. Really? It was barely seven o’clock in the morning.

She lit one and took a deep drag, leaning her head against the wall behind her, squinting at the sunlight and then closing her eyes against the glare. Without opening them she raised the cigarette to her mouth again.

Hadn’t anyone ever told her how bad smoking was for her? 

She exhaled and then took a sip of her coffee. She seemed to subsist on black coffee and cigarettes. He could count on two hand the number of times he’d seen her actually sit down and eat a meal, any meal. The Charger’s most recent reports continued to confirm she wasn’t sleeping much. Too many memories, too many worries, too many uncertainties. He knew what that felt like but he’d had the sense or the training to get help at least.

Elspeth Trevelyan shared them with no one.

He’d reported all these things to Leliana and Cassandra, expecting that having known her longer and given how vital she was to their plans that they’d do something about it, make some effort to get her to take better care of herself, find someone for her to talk to, but nothing had come of it. 

He and Krem sat in silence, watching as she finished the cigarette and stubbed it carefully out. Her hand hovered above her bag for just a moment before she reached for the pack again, pulling out a second cigarette and lighting it.

Bull cursed in Qunari and opening the car door stepped out of the vehicle.

One hand on the steering wheel, Krem peered up at his boss. “Chief?” He questioned.

“Same orders.” Bull told him. “Circle the block once before you come back.” He slammed the car door behind him, waiting for it to drive away before taking a moment to straighten his coat and compose himself before walking up to her.

She’d closed her eyes again, and whether from weariness, or from the nicotine, her features were more relaxed than he’d seen them. It made her look younger, and even more vulnerable. She didn’t notice him approaching, not until he moved in front of her blocking the sunlight. Only then did she open her eyes. 

How someone that oblivious to her surroundings had survived the weeks before he and the Chargers had been hired was a mystery to him.

She saw him standing there and any softness vanished. Her eyes narrowed and she took a deep drag of the cigarette and exhaled watching him all the while. She didn’t speak.

“Morning, Boss.” He said with a grin. “You locked out?”

She gave him a withering look. “No, I just thought it’d be more interesting to sit outside today.”

He ignored the sarcasm. “Then we’re both out of luck. I don’t have my keys either.” He lowered himself down beside her, and her whole body went stiff. Bull shifted a bit to the left so there was now a good foot of space between them and she relaxed a bit. “We missed you at Flissa’s last night.”

She seemed puzzled by the comment. “I had things to finish up.” She muttered finally, but she didn’t meet his eye.

“No shit.” He agreed. “The crap they’re throwing at you, you could probably work 24 hours a day and still not be done. You were still here when I left the bar just after twelve.” He leaned back on his elbows and stretched his legs out in front of him. “So you were here late last night and you’re back before seven. Do you do anything but work and sleep?”

She gave a small huff that might have been a laugh. “I’m not even sure about the sleeping part.” 

He was surprised that she’d admitted it. It left him wondering if last night had been worse than usual. He made a note to check the night’s log. “I’m not surprised given what happened to you.” He kept his voice casual.

She seemed puzzled by the remark. “What happened to me?” She repeated.

He arched an eyebrow. “The explosion?” He reminded her.

And that wariness was back. After a moment she stubbed out the cigarette she’d been holding and as she did he saw her hand was shaking: not a lot, not anything you would notice if you hadn’t been looking for it.

“I survived.” She told him. “Other than a few scrapes and a knock on the head nothing happened to me. I made it.” She stared straight ahead, not really seeing. “I survived.” She repeated. “I’m the lucky one.” 

He didn’t argue with her and they sat in silence for a moment before he spoke again. “Did I ever tell you I was posted to Seheron during the war?” He asked idly. 

“The war with Tevinter?” She asked after a moment.

“That’s the one. The Vints weren’t the only ones I fought, though. We had our own deserters, Tal Vashoth. They fought like animals, didn’t care who got in their way, soldiers, civilians, men, women, children it didn’t matter. And then there were the Fog Warriors. You ever hear of them?” He turned to look at her and the expression on her face was different; for the first time since he’d met her he felt like he had her full attention.

“They’re Seheron natives, aren’t they? Freedom fighters who live up in the mountains. They fight Tevinter and the Qunari both.” She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her knees, but kept her head turned towards him.

“Freedom fighters.” Bull gave a small snort. “I guess you could call them that. We called them guerillas. Rebels. We lost hundreds of men to them when I was there. I’d never fought anyone like them before. I’d never seen fighters who moved like that. You’d be surrounded almost before you realized anyone else was there and by then it was too late.” His face darkened at the memory. “I was there for two years.” He continued after a moment. “Two years of Vints and Tal Vashoth and Fog Warriors and me in the middle, trying to wrangle the rebels and restore order. That whole island was a sack of cats. I started having nightmares. When they got too bad I stopped sleeping. I’d find myself snapping at everyone, losing my temper, getting into brawls. One day I woke up and couldn’t think of one damned reason to keep doing my job. I went to my CO and told him I was unfit for duty.”

“What did he do?” She asked.

Bull grinned at her. “He agreed with me. Pulled me out of combat. Sent me back to Par Vollen and let the docs have me for a while. Eventually I went to Orlais. Did some mercenary work, and then got into private security. Realized my bosses were crap and started up the Chargers. It took some work but I got past it. Talking about it helps.” When he looked at her he could almost see the wheels spinning.

“I don’t start brawls.” She finally said in a small voice.

She’d picked the one symptom he’d mentioned that she didn’t have. He should have realized she would have. “You’re a woman.”

Her mouth fell open. “That is such a chauvinistic remark!” She snapped.

“It’s a fact. Women are different.” He said with a deliberate shrug. 

“Ass.” She muttered. “I could start brawls if I wanted to, I just don’t see the point. Maybe women are too smart to waste time on that sort of thing.” She said giving him a pointed look.

She was cute when she was all hot and bothered. “Like I said, different.”

She opened her mouth to retort and stopped abruptly as she realized he’d just agreed with her. “Ass.” She repeated. But she couldn’t hide the smile that spread across her face. 

And just seeing it made him smile. He pushed himself abruptly to his feet.

“Have breakfast with me.”

She blinked up at him in surprise. “Breakfast?” She repeated.

He rolled his eyes. “Sometimes people have food with that sludge you’re drinking.” He said gesturing at the coffee cup beside her.

She glanced at the cup and her eyes narrowed. “Why?” She asked suspiciously.

He laughed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to work this hard to get a date. “A meal is always nicer with a pretty girl sitting across from you.”

Her cheeks turned pink and a myriad of expressions crossed her face: confusion, disbelief, and then, so fast that if he hadn’t been watching her carefully he might have missed it, pleasure. And then unexpectedly she laughed, a throaty gurgle of a laugh, as sexy as the rest of her and he realized he’d never heard it before. “Does that really work on women?” She asked.

He’d never heard her laugh before and now that he’d realized that, it seemed almost criminal that it had taken this long.

And having heard it once he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to hear it again. “Sure it does. Women, men. Pretty much everyone.” He held out his hand. “Come on.” He coaxed. “It beats sitting on a cold stone step waiting for someone else to show up.”

She stared at his hand, looked up at him, back at his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation slowly slid her hand into his.

He pulled her to her feet, but when she tried to pull her hand free, he tightened his hold and then shifted his grip so that they were holding hands properly.

It was hard to say which of them was more surprised by the action, and as they walked along he tried to figure out why he’d done it but could only come up with one answer.

He liked the feel of her hand in his and hadn’t wanted to let it go. It was that simple. 

They’d reached the diner and he let go her hand to get the door and as she walked through she looked up at him and smiled – not her usual slightly mocking smirk, but a genuine smile, a little shy actually, just a small curve of her lips as those big blue eyes looked up at him and as he let the door go he found himself reaching for her hand again.

Because he liked the feel of her hand in his.

It was that simple. And that complicated.


End file.
